Brightly shone the moon that night
by Jantallian
Summary: It's Christmas at the Sherman Relay Station, but no celebration is complete without the mistletoe. Trying to pick it gets Andy and Jess into a whole load of trouble.


This one started life as just a very short, simple story, playing with the ideas suggested by 'Good King Wenceslas' (he always struck me as a bit of a cowboy!) – but then, once Jess gets involved in anything, it never turns out to be short and simple! Must be the first Christmas he was with them, I guess.

**Brightly shone the moon that night**

Jantallian

They had worked hard all day, from the first chilly light of dawn through the frigid peak of noon and well into the fading sun of early afternoon, to clear the three fallen pines, brought down by a driving winter wind the night before. Today, though, all was still and the snow was crisp with frost.

With the road clear and the last load of logs stacked on the wagon, Slim Sherman handed his axe and saw up to his kid brother, Andy, who was in the driver's seat, with a certain satisfaction. Of course, he counted it as his own fault that the pines had come down and blocked the road – they'd been dead for years and were so dry they were ripe for burning, but somehow there never seemed to be time to take them down. Now at least that was one job that he could cross off the never-ending list of tasks that kept the ranch and relay station in good heart. It would have done his reputation no good if he had allowed the main stage route to Laramie to be blocked for long. Not that there were any stage-runs this close to Christmas – the last one had gone through the evening before – but you never knew who might have an urgent need to travel the road, even when other folks were safe inside, celebrating.

The mid-afternoon sun was already sinking in a sky so clear and pale blue that it almost matched the eyes beneath his thick thatch of blond hair. But hair didn't keep your head very warm. Slim retrieved his hat from the driving seat and grabbed his heavy sheep-skin coat. They had worked hard and fast, scarcely stopping for the rations and coffee Jonesy had brought, with much grumbling, from the ranch-house a few hundred yards back down the road. That and the meagre winter sun had worked up enough heat and sweat to make both men shed their coats and hats, but only while they were sawing, chopping, dragging and loading. Now there was a real danger of catching a deadly chill, however hot you felt after a day's labouring.

Slim reached across the seat again for a battered black hat and tossed it accurately onto the dark head of the man leaning wearily on the other side of the wagon. He followed that promptly with the second, rather ragged sheepskin coat. "Put it on, Jess!" he ordered.

The man in the black hat caught the coat and shrugged into it, saying under his breath as he did so, "God-damn Wyoming winters!"

Slim chose to ignore this. Now was not a time to get into a dispute about the weather or the territory or the swearing. He climbed up to the driving seat and held out his hand. "Tools?"

Jess tossed them up and with them another disgruntled comment: "If there's one thing I hate it's a whole day of choppin' chores!" He vaulted over the tail-gate and, settling himself on the pile of logs, added, "Let's get this lot back to the barn."

Andy and Slim both noted the fact that he hadn't said "home" as anyone else would have done. Slim sighed inwardly, but Andy, as he shook the reins and urged the two big draught horses onwards, said "It's _home_, Jess! And with all these logs, we know it's going to be warm."

"It's never warm," Jess grumbled. "It's never really warm even in summer. I'm goin' back to Texas!"

Andy flinched and half-turned in his seat. Slim reached out a hand to reassure him and glared at Jess. "Not in this weather, you're not!" he said sharply. "You wouldn't get a day's journey without freezing your backside to your saddle."

"You're tellin' me how to stay alive?" Jess sounded amused. "D'you think I've not seen worse than this?" He waved a dismissive hand at the snow-strewn landscape. It was true that there was relatively little snow around at the moment, just enough to make it nicely decorative without impeding travel too much.

Fortunately at this point Andy pulled the horses to a halt in front of the big storage barn. The loads they had already shifted that day had more than filled their winter fuel capacity and all with good, weathered wood too, ready to burn. Slim looked at the last load with a slight frown and then said, "I don't believe we'll unload this. We don't need it. The barn's full."

"Then why the hell did we bother loadin' it in the first place?" Jess demanded with some justification.

"To make things look tidy?" Slim suggested, straight-faced.

"Yeah? Even you're not that tidy!" the younger man retorted. "Well, what are we goin' to do with it? Seems a waste to just dump it out at the back of the barn, seein' how dry it is."

Slim thought for a moment and then said "I believe I'll take it over to the Travers. Things are hard up there and they could do with some extra supplies, coming up to Christmas."

"At this time in the day?" Jess sounded sceptical.

"It's a good time. Travers and his two boys will be back. They can help me unload."

"And what about the trail? Can you get up there in the snow?"

"There's not that much snow," Slim asserted. "It's packed down hard on the road for most of the way. I'll not be gone more than a couple of hours."

"Yeah? If that pretty daughter of his is still around, we won't see you by supper time!"

Slim ignored this. He was not going to let Jess needle him, today of all days, although the thought of Sally Travers and her welcoming smile was not far from his mind. Jess grinned knowingly, but inwardly acknowledged that their nearest neighbours, a family who lived precariously by trapping and trading, could certainly do with some generosity. Privately he agreed with Slim's idea, but there was no way he was going to show it.

"I suppose you'll want to change the team?" he said resignedly. He was already frozen and bone-weary, despite his defiance about his ability to survive in the cold.

"Give me hand unhitching these," Slim directed. "Andy, go inside and tell Jonesy to get the coffee good and hot. I'll grab drink and harness the others myself."

"Sure?" Jess's weariness was evident in the way his gravelly tones had dropped another couple of notches.

"Sure!" Slim looked at him in concern. "You get inside with Andy – you look done in."

"Try me!" Jess grated, then caught himself up and said more civilly, "Thanks. I'll get the evening chores done once I'm what you call warm."

But when they finally got inside they found that Jonesy had occupied the day well. He had not only completed the jobs that meant the ranch was secure and ready for the coming winter night, but the tempting aroma of a savoury dish was permeating the warm interior. Slim blessed his faithful and reliable support and told him so.

" 'S nothin'," Jonesy assured him. "Just makin' m'self some time for a little light music when the sun goes down."

For a moment, Slim regretted his decision to leave the warmth and firelight and the pleasure of hearing Jonesy play, but he was not in the habit of going back on his decisions or shirking his responsibilities. He put on his hat and coat again and prepared to go out into the bitter cold to harness a new team to the wagon.

"You're sure you don't want me to come?" Jess asked. He sounded sincere and Slim knew that he would carry out his offer scrupulously, but he could also see that the young Texan had been hit hard by the sharp, thin air and the biting cold that had accompanied their day's labour. Tough though drifting had made him, it made very different demands to the unrelenting grind of much of the work on the ranch.

"You stay right here!" Slim told him. "There's only one daughter and I don't need any competition from you!" and beat a quick retreat out of the door before Jess had time to react.

As he crossed the yard he could hear the soft strains of the piano that Jess had given to Jonesy, drifting peacefully into the snowy landscape. He was playing a Christmas carol. Slim smiled to himself and, humming along with the familiar tune, set about harnessing up his new team. By the time the wagon was ready for its errand of mercy, the music had progressed to singing. Slim caught his breath in a painful moment of brotherly affection as Andy's clear treble echoed through the still air: "Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain, right against the forest fence …"

_And that's where I'm going_ – he thought to himself - _probably really is a league from here by road! _He checked the security of the load carefully and swung himself up once more into the driving seat. The carol rolled on, Jonesy and Andy taking the dialogue in turn, but then Slim thought he heard, beneath Jonesy's battered tones, the soft and slightly hesitant support of a resonant baritone: "Mark my footsteps, good my page, tread thou in the boldly, thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."

Slim shook the reins, urging the team on. He shook his head too. _Just as long as they all stay inside safe in the warm!_ The three voices blended in harmony, the baritone now much more confident and clear. "In his master's steps he trod where the snow lay dinted." _Don't you dare, _Slim thought, only too aware of the dangers of winter travel in Wyoming. Then he laughed at himself - it was only a carol. As the team pulled out onto the road, he laughed again and shook his head in disbelief - Jess was certainly full of surprises!

xxxxxxx

When the carol had come to a resounding close, Jonesy went on playing quietly for his own pleasure, improvising on old tunes and weaving them skilfully into those of carols in a continuous stream of melody. Jess leaned against the mantelpiece, soaking up the warmth of the fire, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful, though whether this was in appreciation of the music or in the recollection of some distant memory, Jonesy did not ask. _Entirely too much load, that boy's carryin', _he thought to himself_, I bet he never really was a kid like Andy – he's been drifting that long – day'll come when he'll have to let loose of that pain and relaxed some. _Jonesy was a wise old bird and in this he was not entirely wrong.

Andy was checking the Christmas preparations once again and Jonesy paused a moment in his playing to warn him: "You can keep out of them pies, Andy – or there'll be none left for tomorrow!" This brought the boy back from the little kitchen to continue his inspection of the festive decorations in the living room. Jess watched him with some amusement, which he carefully concealed. He was finally beginning to feel humanly warm again and was about to drop into his favourite rocking chair, when Andy let out a wail of horror.

"Jonesy, we've forgotten the mistletoe!"

"Mistletoe?" Jess sounded both disbelieving and uneasy.

"Yeah, mistletoe – family tradition," Jonesy informed him. "Great ball of it, there over the fireplace, right where you're standin'." He grinned at Jess's involuntary start. "Same as his ma and pa always had."

"We can't have Christmas without it!" Andy's voice was choked with what seemed to Jess to be quite unreasonable emotion. Then he reminded himself how few years' memories Andy had of his parents and how precious these would be. Something deep and long-buried turned a knife inside him.

"Keep your shirt on, Tiger," he said firmly. "It can't be that difficult to find some around here somewhere." He cast a swift and longing look at the rocking chair, then strolled over to the pegs by the door where his coat and hat hung.

"Top of the ridge," Andy informed him at once. "Just where the path comes up, there's two big old trees just hangin' all over with it."

Jess stifled a groan at the thought of a cold and snowy climb, but the look of delight and relief on Andy's face was too much to resist.

"It won't take us long!" Andy was bounding enthusiastically for his own coat as Jess bent to pull on the heavy boots he had been wearing all day. They were wet with sweat and snow and far from inviting.

"Now just a livin' minute!" Jonesy intervened. "What's this about 'us', Andy? No one said you was goin'!"

"But Jonesy, it's so close – it won't take ten minutes!"

"Twenty or thirty," Jess corrected him. "Still, no reason we shouldn't be back well before supper." _And before Slim_, he added to himself.

The same thought had occurred to Jonesy, who said sharply "And what d'you think Slim's goin' to say if he finds I've let you go scallywaggin' off up the mountain in the dark?"

Jess had moved to the window and drawn back the curtain, revealing a landscape turned to silver by the light of a low full moon just rising above the trees. It was almost lighter than the day had been. "It's a beautiful night," he said softly, almost to himself. "A night like this won't come again in a hurry." He looked down at Andy's eager face and the coat and boots half pulled on anyhow. "Get a waistcoat under that, Andy and put your other pair of boots on – dry socks too!" His tone was low, without emphasis, but quietly decisive. "Get us a pack together, Jonesy, will you? No sense in goin' out unprepared." He had already belted on the gun without which he never moved outside the house and was busy pocketing ammunition for the rifle he had chosen from the rack.

"You ain't goin' anywhere in that coat o' yourn!" Jonesy informed him. "It's no way heavy enough for the cold there'll be tonight." He marched over to the pegs and tossed a fine, fur-lined leather coat at Jess. It was Slim's best and they both knew it.

"You did notice I ain't as tall as Slim?" Jess's expression was inscrutable.

"Put it on! No sense in dyin' of cold - if you do, you ain't goin' to be takin' good care of Andy!"

"Oh, I'll do that." Jess pulled the coat on resignedly. "If I don't break my neck trippin' over the hem of this thing." This remark too was to prove prophetic.

Andy bounded out of the bedroom wearing the requisite extra layers, and stopped short at the sight of the rifle in Jess's hands. "Hey, Jess, we don't shoot it out of the tree!"

"No? Well, I never was too keen on climbin'!"

"I'll do the climbing," Andy assured him, "so you needn't bother with the rifle."

"And if we meet anything bigger than a raccoon, I suppose you expect me to fight it off with my bare hands?" Jess enquired sarcastically. Jonesy, hearing this as he came back from the kitchen with the pack of supplies, nodded in approval at the way Andy had been reminded of basic safety rules without any direct preaching. He sighed – if only Slim …... He handed over the light pack, saying as he did so, "There's biscuits, water, coil of rope, bandage, flint and tinder and some kindling, and two blankets –"

"We'll need a pack-donkey," Jess interrupted, but he hoisted the pack onto his shoulders gratefully and gave the older man a thankful pat on the back. "Mind you," he added by way of an afterthought, "if there's no medicinal whiskey, I ain't goin,'"

"I'm the one who'll be needin' the whiskey," Jonesy prophesied gloomily. "When Slim hears what I let you two do –"

"He can take it up with me," Jess growled. "It's a beautiful night and Andy has a right to find out what the world's like when the snow's down and the moon's shinin'. Don't worry, Jonesy, we'll be back by the time supper's waitin'."

"Don't worry, he says!" Jonesy addressed thin air as Andy and Jess made for the door. "You'd just better be back! Hey, Jess," he added plaintively, "you couldn't see your way to tyin' me up some before you go, just to show I tried to stop you?"

"What, and risk the supper burnin'?" There was a sharp draught, accompanied by a burst of laughter, as the door closed with a bang behind the escaping pair.

xxxxxxx

Crossing the yard, Andy veered momentarily towards the wagon barn, saying as he did so, "Why don't we take the sledge? We'd come down from the ridge a whole lot faster."

Jess shook his head, too tired to be willing to haul the heavy sledge uphill for half a mile, just for the pleasure of a bumpy ride down. "Don't tell me you need a sledge just to carry a bunch of mistletoe. It's not that heavy." So the idea of the sledge was abandoned – that too was to prove a mistake.

For the first few hundred yards of the track, Andy was like a puppy let out to play after long confinement. He had worked hard all day alongside grown men and now he was free to do what any kid would want to do – enjoy the snow and, even better, be out on an illicit adventure when he should have been safely cooped up in the ranch-house. He dashed energetically ahead, plunging through drifted hollows and swinging happily round tree-trunks and from low branches. He'd half a mind to start snowballing Jess, but, when he paused to take aim, he noticed how quietly and economically the Texan was moving, even in his heavy snow boots, his silent Indian-tread barely disturbing the surface of the path and avoiding brushing against the over-hanging branches.

Jess paused and looked up at the snow-lined trees, gleaming in the moonlight. "Seems a real pity to disturb anythin' so delicate," he said quietly, then added: "Besides, snow down the neck's not a good idea tonight. We can't afford to get wet and freezin'." Jonesy, if he had been there, would have applauded this technique for getting the young to do what was best for them. Jess grinned at the eager boy: "Okay, Andy – this is your expedition. You take the lead. An' don't go too fast for me – I'm just a poor weary ranch-hand!"

They climbed for some minutes in silence. This was broken by Andy, who had obviously been following a train of thought. "How it could have been a bright moonlit night _and _there was a rude wind and stormy weather at the same time?" he said questioningly. "And I don't understand all that stuff about the winter's rage?"

"Me neither," Jess agreed, after giving the point due consideration.

"I guess it's what Slim would call poetic license," Andy said thoughtfully.

"You mean poets know nothin' about the weather?" Jess chuckled. "Well, we'd better do better than them. The frost _is_ goin' to be cruel tonight for sure and we need to keep movin'!"

They started on up the path, Jess automatically treading over Andy's footsteps and obliterating them for any following tracker. When Andy suddenly stopped again, Jess, who was mostly operating by the habits of long practice, almost fell over him.

"And how did the footprints keep warm?" Andy demanded.

Jess pulled himself back to the present and applied his own specialist skills to the question. "Any creature making a print must leave a certain amount of heat in it, just because they're livin'. If it was real cold – down as low as it gets up in the north of Canada – nothin' would touch it, but somewhere like this, I guess the heat of the body might melt the snow around the footprint for a minute or so." He thought some more and then added ruefully, "But how heat could be kept in the footprints, I just don't know – unless they were walkin' slow, and I mean real slow!" He laughed aloud at the thought of such a nonsensical way of travelling. "I'm no saint to be answerin' such questions, Andy."

"You're a friend!" Andy bounced back and flung his arms round Jess's neck. "I don't want you to be anything more!

"Just as well," Jess grunted, disentangling himself from Andy's stranglehold. "'Cos, I ain't got an answer to your metaphysical questions."

"Jess, do you know the meaning of 'metaphysical?" Andy challenged him curiously.

"Sure. It means people getting their shirts off about things they can't answer and that don't concern them!" Jess gave Andy an affectionate cuff across the head and pointed to the trail. "'Forth they went together'!"

xxxxxxx

Another ten minutes brisk and silent climbing brought them out on top of the ridge above the ranch-house. From this point the shoulders of the mountains and the wide valleys between them rolled away south as far as the eye could see – and that was a long way on this cloudless, moonlit night. Man and boy stood side by side, outlined against the bright silver of the sky. But Jess's long years on the drift had taught him to avoid becoming a target unnecessarily; he stepped back into the shadow of the great oak they had come to plunder and leaned thankfully against the massive trunk, lodging the rifle close at hand. Though his heart and spirit appreciated the beauty of the scene, his back and legs were less than enchanted.

Andy remained in the moonlight for some moments. He had pulled off his hat in order to see better and was turning slowly around to get an all-encompassing view of the moon and the starry skies. His hand traced the outline of those constellations that he knew and Jess heard him murmuring their proper names like poetry. He turned to Jess and explained, "Pa brought me and Slim up here often, showed us the stars and told us their proper names." He caught his breath in what might have been a suppressed sob, then went on with a valiant attempt at normality, "Slim showed me in a book too, but they don't look the same as out here."

"No, there's nothing like the Big Open," Jess agreed. "Sometimes it's so real it hurts."

Andy turned quickly, sensing something in the man's voice that was about more than just the stars. "Do you know their names too?" he asked, trying to move the conversation on to safer ground.

"Yeah, most of them, but I often don't use them."

Curiosity was written all over Andy's expressive face, forcing Jess to go on: "When you're on your own, with nothin' but the earth beneath and the sky above and no way of findin' home except the trail ahead, those stars are your companions, your friends, the ones that only you can name …" His voice got softer and softer as he spoke until it faded into a whisper.

Andy shivered suddenly, touched by the aloneness that he had never experienced.

"You cold, Tiger? Come here!" Jess reacted at once, unbuttoned the outsize coat that was swamping him anyway and got one arm free of its sleeve. "There's room for two of us, if not three, in this darned thing!" He drew Andy in with his free arm and pulled the loose folds of the coat around them both. The fur was silky-smooth and warm from his body. The boy leaned thankfully against him, then said "Tell me them, Jess."

"Tell you …? O, you mean the names?" Jess smiled. "Well, they're pretty ordinary. You see that big galaxy there to the north, all mixed up sizes and shapes of stars runnin' together? Just like a crowd of people and a load of dust? So that's the Rodeo. Then there's that long streak of stars opposite, over to the right – looks like it's the River." He pointed north again with his free hand. "There's the guide-stars for the pole star. Some call it a plough, but if you look careful, you can see it has the shape of a gallopin' Stallion. Mind you, since I've had Trav, it's had his name too. And just below him, down to the left, on the horizon, you see that group of seven little stars, very bright, almost in a circle? That's the Brothers –"

His voice stopped abruptly and Andy felt his whole body tense as if something was about the jump them. The boy kept quite still and silent, holding his breath until the moment seemed to have passed. His own emotions were too close to the surface and he was finding it hard to cope with the fact that they seemed to be shared by an adult and one whom he had thought nothing could shake.

"Are you warm enough to get your coat off before you go climbin' that tree?" Jess remarked practically after a little while. And then "You sure you want to do this?"

Andy nodded. "It's for Ma – she did love the mistletoe and - she would laugh - and hug us all and say - how lucky she was to have three men - that loved her." The words came out in a tumbling rush of pain and loss and he was shuddering with the effort of holding back his sobs. "Now she's gone … she'll never say that again."

"Hush, now … gently …" Jess's voice was steady, soothing, the way he quieted the horses when they were restive and afraid. The lean-muscled arm around Andy felt rock-strong. "She's not gone far. Do you think there's a night she doesn't watch over you?" There was a passionate conviction in his tone that made Andy twist round to look at his face.

"How do you know?" he demanded.

"I know because it's the bodies of people that die, Andy, not their spirits, not their true selves. When the body dies, the spirit goes out of it and all that's left behind is like a pile of clothes that you've dropped so that you can be free." Jess's eyes were dark and shining in the moonlight. Andy was too young to read the harsh-cut lines of pain under them.

"You're sure?"

"Yes – I'm sure."

"Where do people go when they're free?"

"No-one knows," Jess responded honestly. "Listen to the stories you'll hear at this season - maybe they go to join in singing with those angels? I guess your ma could sing?" Andy nodded, even managed a small smile. "Then again, some Indian legends say they go out into the sky to become part of the great hunting ground of the heavens. To become stars." Jess paused and then said with carefully controlled emotion: "You see that star, the bright one, right close to the moon?"

"Yeah. That's Venus, the evening star."

"For myself, I call her the Mother star. She rises at evening and doesn't fade until dawn and all night long she's watchin' over you, even if you can't see her."

His arm tightened around the boy as Andy was shaken by the convulsive sobs he'd tried so hard to keep down. "Hush, now … gently …" Jess's gravelly tones were slow, reassuring, as he stroked calming fingers through Andy's hair. "Put the burden down. Quietly now ... just listen to what all that life out there is sayin' to you. There's more learnt by listenin' and watchin' than by talkin'."

It took several minutes for Andy to sob himself to a standstill. Then he heaved a great sigh and rubbed the tears from his wet face on the rough wool of Jess's shirt. He was not to know that he had never really grieved fully for either of his parents. Life on the ranch was too precarious and demanding. There had not been time nor, after the loss of their mother, had Slim, equally bereft, been able to find the emotional resources to support him. But Andy's pain spoke only too clearly to Jess. The man closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the tree, his fingers still gently moving through the soft, tangled hair. Gradually even this movement ceased.

_Listen_. At first Andy could hear nothing but the steady beat of Jess's heart, which was scarcely surprising as his head was against the Texan's rib-cage. Gradually he became aware that the heart-beat was slowing, quieting, and there was almost no sound at all from his breathing. Jess's whole body was still and poised, listening deeply to the winter night.

_Listen_. Andy had thought there would be nothing much to hear on such peaceful night, but he soon found that he was wrong. There was the sound of a single drop of melting snow, falling from a nearby branch. The softest slither of flakes settling back into their footsteps. The knife-hiss of feathers as a white owl glided suddenly from its perch in the oak to a nearby rock-pile. The sharp click of stone contracting in the cold. A far-away chuckle that he identified as a stream deep below in the valley. A slow trickle that was the sap moving sluggishly through the tree.

_Listen_. He listened so hard he felt his ears would be sore in the morning. Listened to the snow – the air - the sky - the moon - the wheeling stars.

"Listen," Jess murmured, "listen and you'll hear all the stars singing."

xxxxxxx

They both heard the pitiful sound at the same time. The faint moan of a creature in pain. There was silence. Then the sound came again.

Instinctively, Andy moved away from Jess, his eyes straining in the tricky moonlight that cast such black and silver patterning over everything. There was an animal out there, somewhere close, needing his help.

"See with your ears," Jess said very quietly. He waited and watched as the boy walked silently across the moonlit grass towards the rocks that had fallen from the upper slopes of the mountain into jagged piles across the ridge.

Listening hard, rather than rushing to look everywhere, Andy allowed himself to follow the sound, which came at irregular and widely spaced intervals. Tentatively, he began to inch his way over the tumbled boulders, working his way along the outer edge of the fall. Suddenly the sound was much nearer, almost next to him, but slightly higher up, to his right. Climbing carefully upward, he came very shortly to the source. In the hollow between two great rocks he could make out the shape of a slender, dappled body.

"Jess, it's a deer," he whispered.

He felt rather than heard the movement that brought Jess up beside him. They had no light but the moon and Jess moved carefully round the side of the hollow so that he was not blocking its light for Andy.

"She's caught. Her leg's trapped between the boulders." Andy's exploring fingers felt a shiver of terror run through the injured deer and murmured "Gently now ... stay still … we're not going to hurt you." He sat back on his heels, considering the problem of how to release a wild animal whose instinctive reaction would be not gratitude but blind, unreasoning panic. Andy knew from experience that the hooves of a deer were razor-sharp and capable of inflicting a nasty injury. On the other side of the hollow, Jess crouched in the cramped space, waiting for his decision.

"We could tie her – but that could make the injury worse. I think the leg's broken." Andy paused and the suffering animal made another sound of pain. He ran gentle hands over the other limbs. "It would be better if we could wrap her tight in something, so that she couldn't struggle while we try to lift her out."

Silently Jess slid out of his coat and spread it over the animal, tucking it securely under the exhausted body and round the fragile legs. He made no comment at all about the advisability of trying to splint and heal the injured limb, still less of housing and feeding a creature so timid and so wild. He simply understood that this was what Andy would try to do if they could free her.

It was very difficult, even with two of them and the deer restrained by the thick material of the coat. Fragile as she looked, she was by no means light and had to be handled very gently to avoid further injury. A panic-stricken struggle was the last thing they wanted. The moonlit rocks were deceptive too and it was easy to lose their footing while trying to balance the dead-weight between them.

At last they reached the flat ground and laid their burden carefully down. The deer's liquid eyes were huge and wide, her breath coming in jerks and starts. Andy slowly loosed the coat, to see if the animal would try to stand; with that injured leg, there was no chance of her running anywhere. But she remained flat out, only raising her head slightly to give that pitiful little moan again.

Andy turned wordlessly to Jess, knowing that his greater experience with injured stock and horses might help them decide what to do here. Jess ran both hands along the strong, springy spine that would have been so flexible and graceful if a healthy animal had been capable of leaping to freedom.

"Andy, there's nothing we can do – her back's broken."

"We can't just leave her. She's helpless, just like she was up there." Andy knew well enough the fate of injured animals. He said almost inaudibly, "She'll be alive and torn to pieces!"

There was a faint sound, steel on leather. He looked up and saw that Jess had drawn his boot-knife. "We can spare her that, at least." But Jess did not move. It was still Andy's decision.

Andy looked at the slim blade, gleaming in the moonlight, then at its owner's face. Jess looked stern, remote, as though he was seeing something a long way off or a long time ago.

"Yes – do it. It won't hurt, will it?"

"No. See here, at the base of the skull, between those neck-bones? There's a little space. A knife blade there will kill instantly."

They looked at each other for a long moment, sharing the painful understanding that Jess had just gifted him with the knowledge of how to kill more than a deer. There was a little silence, then Jess said, "It's quick and painless. Sometimes … it's necessary."

Andy nodded, understanding that this was about more than just the fate of the deer, but concentrating on the immediate need. "I'll hold her."

The delicate bones and soft pelt were like silk and steel in his hands. The great eyes were fixed on his, but wild and opaque, without communication or understanding. Jess rested the fingers of his right hand on the beautiful, shy head and spoke softly, words of a harsh, guttural language which nonetheless seemed right and respectful. His left hand moved slightly. There was a quiver and a single breath. The deer was still. There was nothing left now but the outer shell, a garment discarded for freedom.

They were both kneeling in the snow, the dead animal between them. Andy was struggling to sort out what had happened and why he felt the way he did. After all, he had seen animals die before, stock around the ranch, even some of his own pets. He was not sentimental and happily went hunting and fishing when Jess and Slim could spare the time to go with him. So why now, this feeling of grief, yet also of something right that had to be done? Slowly he was coming to recognition of his own need to help and heal injured animals and his passionate desire to support for the weak and helpless, as well as the realisation that it was not always possible to do so. A need that helped to fill the aching space within him.

Watching, Jess could see the emotions chasing across his face as they went through his mind, until his expression settled into something that Jess recognised as resolution and new maturity.

Presently, Andy asked, "What did you say, just then? Before. It wasn't English, was it?"

Jess shook his head. "Apache," he said briefly.

"I've seen you do that other times," Andy continued, remembering. "When we were hunting. But I never heard the words. What does it mean?"

For a moment he thought that Jess would not answer, but he was actually struggling to express something simple but sacred, a prayer that could not easily be translated. "It's different every time, for each animal. When you must kill, you show respect for the spirit of the animal that dies for you, because you're all part of the life of the earth. Something like _Sister of the earth, I thank you that you give up your breath so that we may eat and live. Go free. The Great Spirit is calling you_."

There was a long, shivering cry as the white owl drifted over their heads and floated out across the valley.

xxxxxxx

A breathe of wind stirred the trees behind them and Jess became aware that his knees were soaked and without his coat he would certainly freeze very soon. He could see Andy's breath crystallising on the chilly air. He got stiffly to his feet, considering rapidly what to do next. It didn't need much hunting skill to know that sitting around a dead deer on the side of a mountain in the middle of winter was asking for trouble. Sharper ears than theirs and hungrier bellies would certainly have heard the sounds of the deer a long way off in the still air.

"C'm on." He hauled Andy to his feet and slapped the boy's fallen hat back on his head. "Flap your arms a bit and get warm."

He rolled the deer's body off the coat and put the garment back on, reflecting ruefully as he did so that it seemed to be suffering the inevitable battering that ruined all his clothes and that Slim was not going to be amused.

Andy stood gazing down at the carcase of the deer. "It seems a pity to just leave her here," he said. "I feel there ought to be something we can do …" His voice trailed off into thought. Privately Jess thought that leaving the deer behind would be an excellent idea and keep any local predators off their personal trail, but he was not in the business of dictating the lessons that Andy was learning.

Suddenly the boy's face it up. He ran across to the other side of the ridge and looked down into the valley below. "Jess! The Travers' cabin is at the bottom of this valley!"

"So?"

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither," Andy quoted, adding enthusiastically, "Slim's taken them the logs. You said she had given her spirit so that people could eat – why shouldn't we take them the meat?"

_Because it's a lunatic trek on a freezing night! _Jess responded mentally. Aloud he said teasingly "And where's the wine coming from, Tiger?"

"The Travers have a whiskey still," Andy informed him knowledgeably. "And if we're quick, we can get down and hitch a lift back on the wagon with Slim."

_And if not, we'll be walking back over this damn ridge and facing a justly irate boss and elder brother! _Jess fumbled under his coat for his watch and, finding it, made some rapid calculations. They had been about fifteen minutes climbing the ridge and the same time at the top – half an hour. It would take Slim more than that to reach the Travers' cabin and at least another half an hour to unload. Adding in hospitality between neighbours and the attractions of the lovely Sally, it was unlikely that Slim would be leaving before they got down from the mountain with their load.

"So, if we go down the other side of the ridge," Jess queried, "tell me about the trail, Andy. What do we need to know?" He had in his own head a detailed and accurate map of the land surrounding the relay station, but this was Andy's expedition and he needed to be encouraged to lead it in a responsible manner.

Andy paused to think, which pleased Jess. Then he said confidently: "The path down from here is narrow and a bit rough and it zig-zags over some steep drops, but nothing that we can't handle as long as the moon doesn't go in." He scanned the heavens. "There's not a cloud – we'll see to get down. The little path comes out on the main track just by the old tin mine workings. From there on, it's pretty well a straight run down into the valley. It used to be an old logging trail, but it's not too rutted now."

"What about the going? How's the snow likely to be underfoot?"

Andy considered again. "Under the trees, it will be powdery, softer than the trail coming up, because the frost doesn't bite so much this south side of the ridge and the trees give out some warmth. When we get on to the main track, it could be slippery, because it's not sheltered and the air is freezing. But I think we should be able to walk it without too much danger of a fall."

Jess nodded in agreement with this summary and said "Okay, then. You carry the supplies, but give me some of that rope first." He bent and quickly secured the legs of the deer, so that the carcase was easier to handle. It was at this point that Andy spotted something that Jess had been hoping he wouldn't.

"Look! There's other prints in the snow – all along the edge of the rocks!"

Jess mentally cursed his success in instructing Andy in tracking, as the boy went on, "Jess, she must have had a fawn! An autumn drop, by the size of the prints, big enough to follow her now. Look, you can see where it ran up and down, knowing she was trapped." He traced the small prints to the trees at the edge of the ridge. "Then it ran away. Maybe it heard us coming!"

Silence greeted this analysis. Andy looked again. "No. The prints are blurred but the edges are frozen. That means it happened before sundown, before we came." He turned back, his face vivid with concern. "Jess, can't we –"

"No, Andy." Jess rarely gave negative orders but when he did so there was no chance of questioning them. "We are not going to start searchin' for that fawn. Work out why for yourself."

Andy stood, silent and bereft, weighing the possibilities, then slowly nodded. Jess bent and hefted the dead mother across his shoulders. As he rose to his feet and walked over to the oak to pick up his rifle, he thought, with a strong sense of irony, _I'm doing all this on instructions from a Christmas carol!_

Moments later the ridge was empty, save for the prints in the snow and a single feather from the white owl.

xxxxxxx

Once again Jess let Andy take the lead and they went in Indian-file down the narrow, winding path through the trees. The going was not too bad and they made good progress, only occasionally held up by really tight places where it was tricky for Jess to manoeuvre his burden. Like a hunting party, they did not talk, but relied on their awareness of each other's reactions to the world around them. They were both observing and listening intently, conscious that what they carried might earn them some unwanted and possibly unpleasant attention. Andy was beginning to realise that his fancy about acting out the carol was not such a good idea in practice. Why, then, had Jess gone along with it? So that, Andy realised, he would work out the implications and consequences for himself. Jess was a firm believer in real-life lessons.

They were not far above the main track and the old mine-workings when Jess touched Andy's shoulder with the combined hand-signal for "Stop – look." The trees had opened out and they were standing at the head of a space where the land fell sharply away in a jumble of bounders and large stones to the next level of trees; they could see clear across to the other side of the valley. Andy followed Jess's eye-line because this was where he was looking.

Everything was still. Silver and black trees and shadows alternated like huge fencing along the brow of the hill. Then Andy caught a flick of movement, so small he would have missed it if he had not been looking very hard. The flick resolved itself into the sharp outline of a pricked ear and then everything came into focus and he could see the almost perfect camouflage of the grey and black timber wolf, standing motionless at the edge of the trees. It remained unmoving for perhaps a minute, then the flick of the ears came again as it turned its head and watched another wolf come trotting easily along the edge of the trees. The two touched noses, then suddenly the first one sprang clear of the trees and out onto the moonlit snow, bowling over its companion as it did so. The second wolf picked itself up and lunged at the other one who was waiting in a half-crouch, as if daring it to jump. To Andy's delight, he realised that the two were playing, scrapping and tumbling each other, mock-biting with low growling which carried across the valley on the still air. He watched, entranced at the joyful, exuberant dance of the animals until, just as suddenly, it ceased and the two wolves vanished without a trace into the trees, leaving only their trampled marks in the snow behind them. Andy and Jess smiled at each other - words were not necessary to describe their pleasure.

Almost immediately after this, disaster struck - a disaster which, Jess admitted afterwards, was entirely his own fault. They were almost at the edge of the clearing, about to make the final descent on to the main track, when he decided to take a look over his shoulder and check what the wolves were doing. This wasn't really necessary, as they were obviously not hunting, it was too early in the season for them to be driven by real hunger, and in any case, dumping the carcase that he carried would keep them occupied for much longer than it would take to reach the Travers. He had also recognised that they were just a couple of young males, who had left the safety of the pack in order to do some playful exploring on their own - rather as he and Andy had done, he reflected with another grin. At that moment, the over-long coat caught on a snag of rock, wound itself inextricably round his ankles and send him plunging headlong down the steep fall to the edge of the trees. There was a sound of ripping leather, a strangled curse and an unpleasant crunch as he landed in the brush, which fortunately stopped him rolling any further.

To his credit, Andy did not cry out, but scrambled hurriedly down the slope to where Jess was lying, with the breath knocked out of him and a long cut across his cheek-bone beginning to run blood in some quantity. Andy hurriedly wrenched off his own bandanna and pressed it hard to the cut to stop the bleeding. A smell and trail of fresh blood would almost certainly add to their problems.

"Anything broken?" he asked anxiously.

Jess heaved himself up from the tangled mess of coat, dead deer, rifle and snagging undergrowth and shook his head, though whether this was a negative or just to clear his brain was not immediately obvious. He took the bandanna from Andy's hand and mopped up the blood decorating his face and neck. "Thanks, pard'ner. Good job that rifle wasn't loaded." He absently picked up it up, together with his hat, which he jammed back on.

"Are you all right?" It was the kind of stupid question that anyone asks in the shock of a sudden accident.

"I guess so." Jess cautiously tested his arms and legs, giving a wince as he realised that he could hardly bear to put any weight on his right foot.

"Anything broken?" Andy asked again, seeing the reaction.

Jess managed a semblance of his crooked half-smile to reassure him. "Well, it's not a case of 'faints my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer'! But I ain't goin' to be runnin' anywhere in a hurry, that's for sure."

"Can you walk?" Andy asked, then exclaimed "No! Leave it!" as Jess bent to heave the deer on to his shoulders again.

"She's come this far with us – I reckon she can come some further!" Jess ground out the words with an effort. It was totally illogical to continue to carry this burden, but he had given his consent to Andy's plan and he was not about to go back on that just because something happened to be driving red-hot nails into his ankle.

Andy was baffled. It was the first time that he had really come up against the utterly stubborn and often irrational determination of the Texan when his mind was set on something. Slim would have recognised the situation only too well.

The next hundred yards down to the main track seemed to take longer than the whole of the rest of the descent. Andy was shocked and deeply worried because he soon realised that, at this rate, they would never get to the Travers' place in time to hitch a lift with Slim. If they could not ride in the wagon, it was obviously impossible for Jess to make the long climb back over the ridge to the relay station. That meant staying at the trappers' lodge until a message could be sent home and someone came to fetch them. And that was a lot of trouble for a lot of people who didn't deserve it. And added to that, Jonesy would be going frantic because Jess and Andy were not back at the time they'd said. Andy told himself with chagrin that this was the last time he was ever going to plan an adventure based on the unrealistic details of a poem.

Behind him, as he limped painfully downwards, Jess's thoughts were very similar, with the additional certainty that Slim was going to chew him out big time, maybe even tell him to leave, for what had begun as a light-hearted and generously intended adventure.

After what seemed to Andy hours, but was probably about a quarter of one, they came out onto the track by the ruined shacks of the old mine workings. On another night, Andy might have pleasurably scared himself by imaging the ghosts of long dead miners among the shadowy buildings and dark doorways. As it was, he was only concerned to reach somewhere that Jess could sit down. He found a bench outside one of the huts and pushed an unresisting man down onto it, thinking as he did so, that no-one pushed Jess anywhere, so he must be feeling pretty bad. But he needed to rest. It was at least another mile to down the valley to their destination and Andy did not see how Jess could possibly walk that far, still less if he was still obstinately carrying the dead deer.

"Look in the pack, Andy."Pain made Jess's voice even lower and more husky than usual. "If Jonesy put that whisky in, I'll do the washing up for a week!"

"Better be glad he didn't hear that!" Andy found the little bottle and passed it over. Jess uncorked it gratefully and took a long pull. "Jonesy, I owe you!"

"I'll remind him," Andy promised, trying to keep up their spirits with some humour. "And you too – you know how much you hate washing up!" But he was still fretting about their inevitably slow progress. "I wish we'd brought the sledge," he complained.

"Me too," Jess agreed. "The thought of slidin' down this mountain is pretty attractive right now!"

"D'you think the miners might have had a sledge?" Andy asked optimistically, but Jess shook his head. "When a place like this is abandoned, Andy, they take every livin' thing that could be of use somewhere else. There's no way they'd leave anythin' as useful as a sledge behind."

"But they might have left something that could be used as a sledge!" Andy leapt to his feet, full of hope. "I'll have a look round."

"Yeah, just leave me here to the cold and the ghosts!" Jess protested in mock horror. "Then you can fall down an old mine shaft and I'll freeze to death with a broken leg and nobody's gonna sing any nice songs about us!"

"I'll take care," Andy promised him, recognising the warning implicit in the teasing. "I have to try or I'll end dragging you on a travois!"

"Yeah –harness the wolves to it, why don't you?" Jess grinned and then leaned back against the shack wall with his eyes closed, trying to conserve his energy for what he knew would be a difficult and painful progress down the mountain. He trusted Andy to use his common sense and to conduct his search safely and, surrendering to the blissful sensation of not walking, he hugged the hard-used coat about him and fell into an uneasy and wholly uncharacteristic doze.

He was jerked out of it by the sound of a resounding crash and a yell from Andy. Forgetting his injured ankle, he leapt to his feet, his gun seeming to just appear in his hand, started to run towards the sound and measured his length on the ground. That damn coat again! Jess scrambled to his feet, dumped the coat and started to limp determinedly towards where he thought the sound had come from.

"Look what I found!" Andy appeared round the corner of one of the dilapidated buildings, dragging a door behind him. "Most of them were rotten," he continued enthusiastically, "but this one's fine."

Jess heaved a sigh of relief, holstered his gun and told his heart to stop pounding. "You think we can slide on this?" He examined the door doubtfully.

"The front side's smooth and the wood's covered with ice," Andy pointed out. "If we put that side down, we can use the cross-beams on the back to brace ourselves against."

"And how'r we gonna steer?" Jess asked, not wholly convinced that this was the answer to their problems.

"The track's almost dead straight, right to the cabin," Andy reminded him. "And before you make any more objections, it's not too steep either."

Jess laughed and punched him affectionately on the arm. "I like to feel in control," he admitted. "It's like ridin' a horse, you don't just let it run away with you." He bent and examined the door more closely. "If we can prise this hinge off, it'll leave a hole, and look here – there's a knot we could gouge out in the end of this plank." His knife was in his hand in an instant and busy following the plan he'd outlined. "Get some rope from the pack, Andy."

When Andy returned, he was carrying the pack and Jess's discarded coat. "Put it on, Jess!" he ordered, sounding exactly like his elder brother. "You're freezing."

"Kills the pain," Jess said briefly, but he took the coat and regarded it critically. Even in the moonlight, it looked distinctly battered. He sighed as he reluctantly put it on again: "That's a couple o' month's pay your brother'll be dockin' me!"

They dragged the door out onto the track, settled themselves, the deer and the rifle, and braced their feet against the cross-timber. Andy had to admit that it was comforting to have the rope to hang on to, although it was not clear whether it would actually help them to steer. With a couple of hearty pushes, they eventually got under way and began to slide slowly down the broad track into the waiting valley. It was not that much faster than walking, but they were both glad to be relieved of the effort.

The improvised sledge worked quite well, only requiring them to pull it over the roughest parts of the track in one or two places. They developed a method of poling it along with a couple of stout branches they'd picked up, although Jess grumbled that it was more like rowing a boat than sledging. Andy had never been in a boat, still less one propelled by rowing and was highly entertained by Jess's description of his own far from successful attempts to acquire this skill. "Give me a canoe and a paddle any day," Jess was saying, when he was rudely interrupted by a terrific lurch from their botched-together transport. They began to pick up speed at an alarming rate.

What Andy had forgotten and what Jess, who had only ridden to the Travers' cabin from the road, had never known, was that the last approach from the western ridge included an increasingly steep gradient, dipping down abruptly to the deep hollow in which the homestead lay. The door, the downside of which was now covered with a stout layer of ice, began to accelerate relentlessly. There was no doubt that it was a thrilling ride, hurling through the silver landscape like a blast of the winter wind, but Jess was all too aware that the prospects for steering, let alone stopping their downward career were distinctly limited.

Ahead, the Travers' yard was coming rapidly into view. They could see the half-unloaded wagon, with Travers, his two elder sons and Slim busy passing the logs from hand to hand and so into the woodshed. Worse still, a number of small Travers kids were engrossed in chasing each other around in the snow, oblivious to the heavy object that was hurtling silently towards them. Even if Andy, Jess and the door did not smash themselves into something hard, the thought of hitting another human being at such a speed was horrendous.

"Andy!" Jess ordered over his shoulder, "You remember that war yell that Blackfoot boy taught you? Fill your lungs and let 'em know we're comin'!"

It was certainly effective. Everyone below looked up in horror and ducked instantly behind the nearest protection. The 'sledge' hit the steepest part of the hollow and seemed to leave the ground altogether, causing Andy and Jess to cling to each other as well as the precarious handhold of the rope.

"Time to get off!" Jess shouted to the boy as they landed again. "See that drift just this side of the gate? Tuck your head and arms in and roll like I taught you. And don't the hell put your arms out to try to stop yourself. Understand?"

"Yes!" Andy had no time to be afraid as the drift flew towards them. The next second he had rolled off, his head protected by his crossed arms and his shoulders taking most of the immediate impact. He bounced a couple of times, then landed on his back in the drift, into which he sank slowly but in relative safety. As soon as he stopped, he struggled desperately to his feet in an effort to see what would happen next.

By some miracle the door, with Jess still struggling to control it, zipped through the open gate and continued to hurl across the yard towards the wagon. Jess hauled fiercely on one end of the rope, flung his full weight to the other side of the 'sledge' and dug his left heel into the snow. The result was a spectacular circular skid, sending a fan of snow spraying across the yard and everyone in it.

The door stopped abruptly. Jess fell off. He slid several feet flat on his face before he finally came to rest. As he shook the snow out of his eyes, he recognised, with a sinking sensation, the boots that were now right under his nose.

"And just what exactly do you think you are doing here?" There was no doubt about it – Slim was definitely not amused.

xxxxxxx

Slim cast a swift glance round the scene, noting Andy emerging from the drift, the gleeful excitement of the Travis children at the unexpected shower of snow, the dead deer, the dilapidated door and, last but not least, his erstwhile and dishevelled employee, now sprawling at his feet.

"Get up!" Slim grabbed Jess by his lapels and dragged him forcibly to his feet. "I – told – you – to – stay – at - home!" Each word was punctuated by a furious shake, which set the blood running again from the cut on Jess's cheek. "I want an explanation! And don't bleed on my best coat!"

"It's not goin' to make a dime of difference now," Jess told him defiantly, though whether this referred to the state of the coat or the reason for the illicit expedition was open to question. His casual attitude made Slim tighten his grip and draw back a fist.

"Easy, Slim!" Dan Travers put a hand the shoulder of each of the younger men. He was a big man himself and didn't need to exert much force to part them. Slim let go abruptly and Jess slumped to his knees with a yelp of pain.

"Take it easy!" Dan said again. "The boy's injured! You can wait for your explanation till he's been cleaned up some." He helped Jess up and gave him a friendly shove in the direction of the cabin, calling out as he did so: "Martha, Sally! Get out here – there's a man wants some patchin' up!"

Mrs Travers and her daughter appeared at once in the doorway, evidently having been watching the proceedings from the window. Andy immediately dashed over and presented them with the deer, surely the strangest ever Christmas present to be delivered in such an unexpected manner. It was, however, gratefully received, after which the enthusiastic children helped to carry it away round to the back of the cabin, before resuming their snow fight. Andy, sensing Slim's displeasure, made himself scarce amongst them. Jess, meanwhile, had disappeared into the cabin, accompanied by a flutter of feminine concern at his battered and bedraggled appearance and the possible extent of his injuries.

This was almost the last straw for Slim. He had had a very pleasant half hour at the cabin while waiting for Dan and the boys to return and his appreciation of Sally had been increased considerably by her charming hospitality and her evident pleasure at being able to spend time entertaining him. Mrs Travers, who by no means disapproved of him, had retreated tactfully into the background and shooed the younger children outside to play in the snow. Slim had enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the warmth of Sally's welcome. Now he was outside in the freezing cold with a wagon full of logs to unload and Jess was inside by the fire, undoubtedly turning on that injured innocence of his which women seemed to find so irresistible. Slim stood for several seconds, wrestling with the battle between his feelings and his conscience. It was a testament to his character that conscience won. He had set out to give a gift to his neighbour and that was the most important thing. Besides, it was Christmas – good will to all men, even one who had endangered his brother and was probably making free with his girl. Slim set about shifting those logs at a pace that even his tough fellow workers found difficult to keep up with.

xxxxxxx

It was actually an injustice to Jess to suggest that he deliberately set out to charm the two women. On the contrary, it was the fact that he was frozen, bone-weary and in considerable pain that caused him to collapse into a chair in front of the fire and submit thankfully to having his injuries tended by gentle and expert hands. His appreciation of their care was immeasurably increased by the fact that Martha Travers took one look at him and immediately produced a mug of strong black coffee, heavily laced with whiskey.

Jess downed the hot drink appreciatively and held out the empty mug. "Again?"

"Not till I find out what you did to your face" she told him sternly, adding to Sally "Get some hot water and more whiskey – that cut needs cleaning."

"It was the deer's hooves,"" Jess explained. "I fell over while I was carryin' her."

"In that case," Sally told him, as she returned with the hot water and a familiar brown bottle, "you definitely need something to disinfect it. Hold still!" She caught hold of his chin and made him tilt his head so that the cut, still bleeding freely, was uppermost to the light. "What do you think, Ma?"

"Go ahead – it won't hurt to do it thoroughly."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Jess as Sally sloshed a generous amount of whiskey into the cut. With his eyes still watering, he remarked "Now which part of 'won't hurt' did I misunderstand?"

Martha said nothing, but handed him the second coffee she had poured in readiness. Jess took the bottle deftly from Sally and poured another good measure into his mug. "If I'm not goin' to get any sympathy from you hard-hearted nurses, I shall just have to drown my sorrows …"

"That's enough for a man in your condition!" Martha told him, removing the bottle from his reach. "Sally, get some strapping plaster and put it over that cut – "

"No!" Jess sat up in protest. "I hate strappin'." He twisted round in the chair and gave Sally an irresistible boyish grin. "For the best healin', you just need a kiss!"

Martha waited tensely to see how her daughter would take this. She had no objection to Slim Sherman, a respectable and responsible rancher whom she had known for years, paying attentions to her daughter, but this young man she had met only once before. Her own reactions warned her of the all too likely effect on a young girl of this dark stranger, whose physical grace and power were apparent even when he was clearly exhausted and in pain. He was absolutely the opposite of respectable and, judging by his unorthodox method of arrival, probably not very responsible either! To defuse the situation, she turned her attention to his injured ankle, sending Sally running for a bigger bowl of hot water and some long bandages.

Gently she removed the sodden boots and socks, trying not to jar the injured ankle too much. Jess breathed a sigh of relief as the warm water washed over his aching feet. Martha could see that his ankle was not broken, but a large black bruise had spread widely and discoloured even his dark skin and the slender bones of the foot itself were being obscured by rapidly increasing swelling. "You were a fool to walk on this!" she scolded, more sharply than she had intended.

"Yeah, I'm a fool – but it was necessary."

"Necessary to struggle all that way, just to bring us meat?"

"Andy thought you could use it, ma'am." He sounded as if this was the most obvious and conclusive reason in the world. It reminded her that he had put the boy's safety first, disregarding his own injuries - and that Andy Sherman, a nice kid if every she'd met one, clearly adored him.

Martha shook her head and continued bathing his foot, her fingers firm and knowledgeable as she manipulated damaged tendon and muscle, massaging the ache and soothing the stabbing pain. She felt him relax all of a sudden, as if he had been a child of her own, whom she had comforted in their hurt – and she guessed that this was not a young man who ever easily relaxed and let his guard down. When he did, he looked so young, hardly older than her own boys – she offered up a silent prayer that they would never had to go through what this one had obviously suffered. And another that Sally would not get herself entangled with anyone so disarmingly dangerous. She towelled both feet briskly and then set about strapping up the injured one, making sure that he could get his boots on when he needed to.

"That's so good …" He lay back in the chair, content and drowsy, but watching intently the bent head of the woman who knelt beside it. There were already strands of grey in her hair and wrinkles on her face from long hours in the sun and wind. But her back was straight and her hands were strong and he knew that she would laugh readily and never give in while her family needed her comfort and care.

"Can you sing, ma'am?" The question was totally unexpected and she did not know how to answer it. But Sally, who had been lingering forgotten in the firelight, said "Yes, she can sing. She always sings the little 'uns to sleep, especially when they're ailin'."

Jess smiled and said softly, almost to himself, "Then she's an angel." He reached down and took the work-worn hands in his. "I'm glad you're here for their carin', Mrs Travers," and bending his head, he brushed her upturned palm with the gentlest of kisses. Dark blue eyes locked with hers for a moment and then sparkled with mischief, as if he perfectly understood her earlier reservations about him: "I never said who was givin' and gettin' the kiss!"

xxxxxxx

The cabin door burst open and the room was at once full of weary men and excited children. Damp clothes were soon steaming by the fire and Martha and Sally plied everyone with hot coffee. Andy straightway made a beeline for Jess, to assure himself that his friend had suffered no permanent damage – at least, not until Slim decided to lay into them both. His brother was leaning against the mantelpiece, a far from encouraging expression on his face as he looked down at the pair of them.

"Now – I want an explanation!"

"It was my fault!" Andy and Jess said simultaneously.

"I can believe that!" Slim told them grimly. "No need to act like a Greek chorus."

Jess, whose experience of classical theatre was distinctly limited, looked puzzled. Andy skipped in smartly and began "I wanted some mistletoe, Slim – you know, we always hang it up over the fire, like Ma did!"

"That doesn't explain a dead deer, hell-riding on a broken door, and –" Slim shot Jess a critical glance, "ending up looking like you've been chased over a cliff by a bear!"

"Wolves, Slim – we saw wolves playing!" Andy told him excitedly, but Slim ignored this and finished up his summary of Jess's crimes with "And the ruination of my best coat!"

"It was all the fault of your damn coat in the first place!" Jess protested vehemently.

"Let the youngster explain," Dan intervened firmly, before things could get any more heated. "Come on, Andy, tell us what actually happened."

So Andy, his eyes shining and his voice lively, told the tale of the missing mistletoe and all it had led to. What he did not include were the things he had shared with Jess and the lessons he had learnt – instinctively he knew that these were too personal to them both to be shared with anyone. The following of the carol's 'instructions' and the present of the deer caused considerable and appreciative amusement in the Travis family, but Slim was not impressed and glared at Jess, remarking "Sounds like a lunatic idea on a freezing night!"

"My own thought entirely," Jess informed him quietly as Andy continued enthusiastically with his tale. "But Andy needs to be the judge of his own decisions!" Slim scowled at him, unwilling to take this implied criticism of his management of his brother. Andy, meanwhile, was now lamenting the fact that they had not been able to track down and save the young fawn as well; the encounter with the two wolves had left him in no doubt that it would not survive long on its own. He did not see the start that Dan Travers gave at this point in the story, nor the glance that he exchanged with his sons.

"So then Jess fell over –"

"I tripped on that stupid coat!" Jess corrected him.

"And he couldn't walk very well, so we needed a sledge, and then …" The rest of the story dissolved in a burst of laughter from everyone as they recalled how a near-lethal disaster had been so miraculously avoided. "But we never got the mistletoe," Andy concluded, momentarily sad in the midst of the fun.

It was then that Sally slipped quietly from the room.

Dan had been thinking hard about the story and had arrived at a decision, which he believed his family would share. "Come with me, Andy," he invited and, picking up a lantern, led the way from the warm living room out into the yard. Here he crossed to the furthest of the outbuildings, the big main barn and hay-store. Of course everyone else followed him. The front part of the barn was divided into accommodation for animals, and Dan guided Andy to the nearest stall. He held up the lantern silently, allowing the boy to make his own discovery.

Lying in a deep bed of hay was the sturdy yet fragile figure of a young deer. Andy let out a gasp of pleasure and wriggled carefully and slowly through the bars closing the entrance. The fawn looked up at him with huge, bright eyes but did not seem afraid. The boy squatted down slowly next to the little creature and extended a gentle hand. To everyone's surprise, the fawn butted his fingers and allowed him to rub its head and caress its thin, delicate ears.

"The kids said she simply wandered in here, a mite before sundown," Dan explained. "Settled down in that stall, as if she was expectin' someone." He looked at Andy, whose face was radiant with relief and love, at Slim, surprised and not wholly approving, and at Jess, whose face revealed nothing. "Want to give her a home, Andy?"

"I think she'll come with me." Andy's remarkable talent with wild animals was never more evident than in the absolute trust that the orphaned deer placed in him that night. He tenderly gathered the young animal into his arms and made his way carefully towards the wagon. Adults and children alike turned to follow him.

"If that isn't the darndest thing I've ever seen!" Dan remarked. "You should be proud of that brother of yours, Slim. He's somethin' out of the ordinary!" He put a hand on the young rancher's arm and urged him in the direction of the wagon.

Jess remained standing in the barn doorway. His expression was no longer unreadable, but, on the contrary, the quirk of one eyebrow and that slight crooked smile revealed that he was working out something poignant in his mind. "I guess he takes after his ma, the way he cares for things."

The words were almost inaudible, but they were caught by Martha, who had kept close to her patient, uncertain whether he was really up to walking any further. Impulsively she stepped up to him and took his face in her hands, drawing it down to her own. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and whispered: "Mary Sherman was a good mother and she left a strong home behind her. You just get back there where you belong – and behave yourself accordin'!" Then she tucked her arm through his and walked him firmly back to the wagon.

"It's mighty cold, Dan," she told her husband when as they arrived. "These folk are goin' to need something more to keep them warm, or they'll be frozen right through by the time they get home!" That send the children scurrying to find something to help their friends. They came back with two thick fur robes, made of fine beaver pelt, the best insulation that anyone could want.

"Dan, we can't take these!" Slim protested. He was acutely aware of his own prosperity, relative to the precarious situation of this family, whose life depended largely on their skill in trapping.

Dan laughed heartily at this. "Slim, the one thing a trappin' family has plenty of is furs! These are just some spare ones – we won't need them till the winter really begins to bite." Then he added with a knowing smile, "If you're so worried, you can bring them back some time – I don't doubt Sally will give them a warm welcome."

"Thanks!" Slim turned away hastily to check the harnessing of the horses. He hoped that no-one, least of all Jess, had noticed the colour that rushed to his cheeks at this suggestion. But there was one urgent question pummelling his mind – where _was_ Sally?

Dan laughed again and clapped him on the back as he prepared to climb up into the driving seat. Andy was already in the back of the wagon with his precious cargo and the Travers boys had tossed up to him a load of old sacks to cushion the jolting journey that they were about to make. Martha insisted that Jess travel in the back too, rather than bracing his damaged foot against the foot-board of the driving seat. One beaver robe went to Slim and the other to the two in the back.

Farewells were called, then Slim shook the reins and the team moved off; they were eager and restless after the long wait in the cold. The track was well illuminated by the moonlight, but Slim took it steadily all the same. They had progressed about a quarter of a mile, just round the first bend, when he suddenly drew to a halt.

Running feet were light in the snow, as Sally sped towards the wagon. Slim saw with surprise that she was carrying something, a fine, filigree green ball, its white berries gleaming in the moonlight. Halting beside the wagon, Sally reached up and gave it to him. "There you are – fresh mistletoe - just been gathered." Her voice sounded uncertain of his reaction, but she was smiling nonetheless.

"Thank you!" He hesitated, unsure whether the gift was for him or for Andy, or maybe just for the memory of their mother.

"Never been used," Sally told him. There was amusement and invitation in her tone.

"We'll have to remedy that, then." Slim leant towards her in the moonlight, but the height of the wagon prevented them from touching.

"There's plenty of time." Sally stepped back and gestured to him to drive on. "Just get your little brother safely home!" Slim was pleased that she made no mention of Jess.

"You took a risk, going into the woods at night." His concern was genuine and evident.

"I'm a trapper's daughter," she reminded him laughingly, "and I don't like to think of a child's Christmas being spoiled."

"Or mine either! Thank you, Sally – merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Slim. Now you just you get on home!"

It was quite a while before Slim turned to see that all was secure in the back of the wagon. Jess had been uncharacteristically and tactfully quiet and Slim was unable to fathom what had prevented him from using this opportunity to wind up his employer by suggesting that Sally really fancied him. His silence was almost unnerving and his expression was entirely hidden by the shadow of his hat, so Slim was startled when the gravelly Texan drawl addressed him unexpectedly from the darkness in contrite tones: "Slim, I'm real sorry – you know I wouldn't let anything happen to Andy if there was any way I could prevent it!"

"No, I can see that." Slim recalled the other man's injuries and the way in which he had obviously ignored them. The expedition has been well equipped too, even if it did include what was left of his coat.

"But, hell, Slim, the kid's got to learn by experience – it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You and your ideas," Slim warned him vigorously, "are going to be the ruin of more than my coat."

"Yeah – I'm sorry about that too. Jonesy made me wear it." There was sweet reasonableness, not to say innocence, in Jess's drawl.

"You should be able to deal with Jonesy when he's doing his mother-hen act!" Slim told him. "As for the coat –"

"Yeah, I worked it out. Two months pay."

"True. But I was going to say, you can keep it," Slim grinned. "After all, it is Christmas."

"I guess I'll need to put on a few inches then," Jess grinned back, sounding relieved but very tired. "Maybe I'll just hang it up as a reminder to look where I'm goin'."

"How's Andy now?"

"Fast asleep – and the fawn."

"I suppose the next thing is he'll want to have it sleeping in his bedroom!"

Jess sighed. "So what? Ease up, Slim – it's only one more stray he's taken in."

"Just as long as it's not as much trouble as the two-legged one!"

Jess made no reply, but just yawned and stretched, then pulled the beaver robe tighter around himself and the sleeping youngsters. The wagon rolled on in companionable silence, under the great full moon.

xxxxxxx

Coming finally down the last steep stretch of road, Slim slowed the horses right down, even though they were eager for home, and approached the relay station sedately. The clear light enabled him to make out the worried figure of Jonesy pacing up and down on the veranda, storm-lantern in one hand and rifle in the other. Much though he longed to bring good news to the older man, Slim still made his approach as quiet and gentle as he could, a proceeding for which he had good reason.

When the team finally stopped, Jonesy was already at the side of the wagon. "Slim, I lost Andy and Jess! I should never have let them go –"

Slim jumped down lightly and hugged Jonesy then and there, seeking to calm him.

"I should never have let them leave home –"

"Hush," Slim whispered, patting him reassuringly on the back. "Take a look." He urged Jonesy closer to the side of the wagon.

"Well, I'll be …!" The older man looked in astonishment. In the back of the wagon, Jess lay propped up on a pile of sacks, his hat tilted over his eyes, breathing quietly in profound and peaceful slumber. Andy was sleeping too, tucked in the crook of his arm, the warm beaver robe wrapped round them both and, between them, the young fawn sprawled trustingly, half dozing, half awake.

"How in tarnation …?"

"Oh, I expect they'll tell you the full tale tomorrow - with suitable embroidery!" Slim grinned. It was almost Christmas Day and everyone deserved to be forgiven.

At that moment, sensing that the wagon had stopped, Jess was instantly awake, pushing his hat out of his eyes and scanning the stars above and their relation to the horizon. He gave a satisfied grunt as he recognised when he was.

"C'mon, Tiger, we're home!" He lifted boy and fawn into his arms with apparent ease, lowered himself gingerly over the back of the wagon and limped determinedly in the direction of the house, carrying his double burden.

"Did you hear that?" Jonesy whispered incredulously as the door, which Jess had opened with some difficulty, closed behind the trio of truants.

"Yeah!" Slim breathed a sigh of contentment. "I guess if you go out helping others, you bring back a blessing for yourselves!" Smiling broadly, he turned back to the wagon and lifted something down from the driving seat. "And we got the mistletoe too, so let's get it hung up. Happy Christmas, Jonesy. A happy Christmas for us all!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

NOTES:

For the purists among you, the author of the carol died in 1866, so it is not totally improbable that they might have known it. As for the constellations of the Northern hemisphere, the Rodeo is the Milky Way, the River - Andromeda, the plough really does look like a galloping horse and I watch Venus rising every night over the hill in winter. Jess can't count, though, because there are actually 8 'brothers' in the Gemini grouping, but significantly, one of them is a bit left out on its own.

Finally DON'T DO THIS AT HOME: the use of non-standard sledges on steep mountains is stupid and if you find an 'abandoned' fawn, it isn't – so leave it alone, Mum is almost always somewhere near.


End file.
